A few steps from the edge we entered a circular clearing, perhaps a dozen paces in diameter, hemmed in on all sides by a perfect network of tangled brushwood and vines. Here, to our great joy, we came upon our lost comrades, all seated at the base of slender trees, to which they were bound by stout ropes.
“Hurrah!” cried Bill Acker, a smile lighting his careworn face. “It’s a joy to see you again, my boys, although you seem to have fallen into the same trap we did.”
“Beg parding, Cap’n, for getting myself caught,” said Net Britton, quite seriously. “The brutes jumped me so quick I hadn’t time to fire a shot.”
“All right, Ned; you’re not to blame,” said Captain Gay, and while we were interchanging greetings our captors were busily engaged in securing us to trees, in the same manner the others were bound. We protested, very naturally, at such treatment, but the men, surly and rough, answered us not a word, and after making sure we could not get away they withdrew and left us alone.
As the trees to which we were fastened were at the edge of the clearing we were seated in a sort of circle, facing one another.
“Well, boys,” said Uncle Naboth, “here’s a pretty kettle o’ fish, I must say! The whole crew o’ the ‘Flipper,’ officers an’ men an’ supercargo, has been caught like so many turtles, an’ turned on their backs; an’ all we can do is to kick and wish we had our legs agin.”
We all seemed rather ashamed of ourselves. Captain Gay heaved a most dismal sigh, and turning to Acker asked:
“Who are these people, Bill?”
“Can’t say, I’m sure, Tom. We rowed up the inlet, not expecting any danger, when suddenly the whole lot jumped us and made us prisoners in the wink of an eye. They brought us before a red devil called the Major, who pumped us to find out how many men were aboard ship. When we refused to give them any information they brought us to this place, and here we’ve been ever since, fast bound and half starved, for I guess the fellows haven’t much to eat themselves.”
“How did they come here?” asked my uncle.